I don't remember who told me to do this. Some website. Probably Still Standing. But anyway, someone told me it was a good idea, and I've been obsessing over it for weeks. I'm ready to write down where I am in my grief journey, six months after my son was stillborn. And here goes:
I'm pretty sure I'm losing it.
I've started grinding my teeth. Every morning I wake up and my jaw hurts. I think I need to get a mouth-guard, but this has happened to me before and my dentist says my teeth look great. But I grind my teeth while I'm sleeping.
That's probably because of the nightmares. Nightmares almost every night. Last night was the worst yet. In the dream, I was alone in a store, and a boy ran in, obviously running from someone. I heard people looking for him outside, saying they were going to kill him. I was so scared, I tried anything I could to get away from him. I left him behind. The mob saw me and came after me instead. I woke up just as the biggest guy tackled me. I actually woke up screaming, just like you see on television, but never actually happens.
The nightmares are probably from the guilt.
The guilt is from being distracted enough to not even think about my feelings. To barely think of my son. To see him as an afterthought. To still love him, want him, miss him, but to push those feelings aside until they're almost unrecognizable.
That's probably because I stay so busy. I've dived so deep into planning our local Walk To Remember, I barely remember why I'm doing it. I'm up to my eyeballs in papers, emails and meetings, and honestly, I love it.
That's probably because I feel too much like my old normal. I thrived on this energy, the excitement, people looking to me for answers, and my ability to fix things. And while I love these abilities and this energy, I hate my old normal. Hate it because I wasn't focused on the people most important to me; my children.
That's why I'm pretty sure I'm losing it.
I'm scared I'm losing my son. All over again.